Pepper Flakes
by NaijaChiqa
Summary: Ryan likes spice.


I do not own the O.C.  
  
I don't even know if this is a story, but it just came to me.  
  
P.G.  
  
Ryan-centric   
  
------------  
  
The waitress holds the jar in front of me. "Is this what you want?" she asks.  
  
I nod. "Yes."  
  
She smiles and places it next to me. "If there's anything else you'd like, do not hesitate to ask."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
----  
  
Growing up, I found myself at my neighbor's house every weekday. Spending time with Arturo and Theresa was great but devouring the delicious delicacies was even better.  
  
Roasted pork, refried beans, stewed beef, fried rice, meat loaf, macaroni and cheese, broccoli and rice, lasagna, fajitas, even her boxed mashed potatoes - the same brand my mother bought- tasted amazing. After careful analysis, I learned her secret.  
  
At around 6pm, without knocking, I'd turn the knob and step into the living room.  
  
"Hello, Ryan," Theresa and her Mom would call in unison from the hot kitchen. Steam would be rising from the pot in front of the older woman and the aroma would be filling the house.  
  
"Good evening, Ma'am," I'd say right before I fall on the couch.  
  
"How was school?"  
  
After making small talk, she'd get into the gossip.  
  
"You know what I found out today?"  
  
Theresa would roll her eyes and I'd laugh out loud.  
  
"What?" I'd ask unnecessarily.  
  
"You know, Janine - she sometimes works at the Laundromat..."   
  
We would nod. Chino sometimes felt like a small town because everybody knew everybody.  
  
"Well, guess what she told her poor mother last night? She's pregnant. Another fourteen year old girl gets pregnant too early."  
  
At this point, Theresa would hand her whichever chopped ingredient - onions, tomatoes, garlic, peppers - that is needed for the meal.  
  
She'd slide it into the pot and stir.  
  
"And guess what she told her father?" She wouldn't wait for a response, "she told him that she was tricked. Can you believe that? At fourteen years old, she claims she didn't know what she was doing. And her father believed her!"  
  
Then she'd turn to Theresa, who at this point would be washing or wiping something.  
  
"Don't you ever tell me that because I know you know better!"  
  
Theresa would groan and I'd laugh, causing her to focus on me instead.  
  
"I don't know why you are laughing there. You know what happened to Mr. Martins' son? You know Mr. Martins, right? He works at the post office - he's the one that holds the stamps so delicately, you'd think he was handling diamonds... yeah, his son, Larry... the one that is always around the neighborhood...," she'd pick up her ladle and point for emphasis, "... at noon when he should be in school. I don't know what's with you children and going to school. Ryan, what is so hard about school?"  
  
Expecting that it's rhetorical, I wouldn't respond.  
  
"Ryan, I asked you a question."  
  
"Nothing," I'd reply quickly.  
  
"Exactly. There's nothing hard about school. I went to school and am still alive. So why do you kids avoid it so much? My father only had a 6th grade education but even that helped him a lot... but it's different for you children. Education is free, so why don't you take advantage of it? Heh?  
  
"Nowadays, there are so many scholarships available to help you get to where you need to be. All you have to do is work hard. You don't have any responsibilities, your main job is to be a kid. Yes, I know things can be hard, but going all around town causing trouble will never take you where you need to be. Do you understand that?"  
  
Theresa and I would nod. At this point, Arturo would step in, see that we are in the middle of another lecture and try to escape.  
  
"Arturo, not so fast," she would say to him as he attempts to leave. "You should come over here and listen - this concerns you too."  
  
He'd frown at Theresa's silent giggling then sit next to me.  
  
She'd stir the concoction in the pot then add some salt to it.  
  
"You boys remember that education is key. No matter where you go in life, you will always need that. And no matter what happens to you, no one can ever take it away for you - you've earned it and it's yours to keep. I remember when I was a young girl..."  
  
At this point, Theresa would save us all by interrupting her. "Mom, you were going to say something about Larry Martins."  
  
"Yes, Larry. He was caught trying to rob a convenience store last night. His father has been at the courthouse all day trying to make his bail. Arturo, remember when I warned you to stay away from that boy?"  
  
A frowning Arturo would nod, looking like he's praying for the ground to open up so that he can disappear.  
  
"Going all around the neighborhood with such people will never take you anywhere."  
  
At this point, she'd lift the ladle to her lips and the minute she closes her eyes, her hand would shoot out. Almost mechanically, Theresa's exquisitely shaped self-manicured hand would reach into the cupboard and after a subconscious caress, would pick up the semi-transparent plastic container housing the coarsely ground red and yellow flakes. She'd twist the lid once then hand it to her mother.  
  
"All I am saying is you need to be responsible," she'd say as she sprinkles the dry seasoning all over the food.   
  
------  
  
I take a bite of cheesy pastry and the minute it touches my tongue, I know that something is missing. I grab the jar and twist the lid once.  
  
Marissa rolls her eyes. "I wonder why you bother tasting it at all, you know you're going to add it."  
  
I smile as I sprinkle it all over my pizza. She's right. No matter how hard I pretend, I can't deny that I need my pepper flakes. 


End file.
